We Called It Love
by Aki Kaede
Summary: We fell in love. We fell out of love. If only falling in and out of love was as easy as it sounds, we wouldn't be here now. RyoSaku Chapter 2 Up!
1. Prologue

Author's note: Hey guys, I'm back... (sheepish grin)

I am very, very sorry for the long, long break I took from writing fanfiction. A lot of things happened that contributed to my absence. The gist of it is on my now-revived blog. Sorry for the lack of updates. There are so many things I would have loved to forget and I won't be writing them on my blog. I just hope my apology is enough to cover for my unexplained absence.

This story is a new story that I had been playing in my mind for a while and I decided to put it into words. Hope this will mark my return to writing fanfiction!

Also, since I haven't been writing for some time, my writing skills may be rusty and I have not found the right feeling yet. Therefore I would like to ask if anyone would be willing to be my beta reader. The details will be put up in my blog. Please do not PM me about this, please comment on my blog post instead.

Thank you all and please enjoy the story!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis or any of its characters.  
**

* * *

**We Called It Love  
**

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

Blue skies. White clouds. Great weather. If it weren't for the fact that he was currently 30,000 feet up in the sky Ryoma would have taken his racket out for some tennis practice.

The golden-eyed young man was staring out of the window of his first-class seat with as much enthusiasm as a deer meeting a lion. His muscular body was slumped comfortably into the spacious seat and the ample leg space allowed his long limbs to be fully outstretched.

Ryoma gave a yawn as he shifted his position on the seat. He had done his fair share of travelling around the world. After all, he is the reigning tennis champion with 14 Grand Slam titles under his belt. He is also the first player of Asian heritage to achieve number 1 in the ATP rankings and the second after Michael Chang to have won a Grand Slam. His immense success not only cemented his popularity in Japan but also the entire world. He enjoys an especially strong following in Asia, with media outlets dubbing him as "Asia's Tennis Prince", showing the enormous amount of pride they held for him as an Asian conquering the world of professional tennis which was previously dominated by the West. Travelling from country to country to play in tennis matches was nothing new to Ryoma, but how he loathed plane rides. Being stuck up there for what seemed like days and not able to do anything else but acting like a couch potato while hovering thousands of miles above the ground was an absolute torture. And the after-effect of jet lag didn't help things either.

"Why can't all the tennis tournaments be held within walking distance of each other?" Ryoma had complained to his manager who just shrugged it off. He was used to whims of the tennis prodigy and being his longest serving manager, knew how to handle him.

Clayton Kuribayashi, a handsome young man, held the enviable position, at least in the eyes of his fangirls, of tennis superstar Echizen Ryoma's manager. In reality, he would so gladly relieve himself of the duties of Ryoma's manager if he was able to. The Prince of Tennis, who had received an upgrade to become the King of Tennis, has as much personality as the Pacific Ocean and the Atlantic Ocean combined and had proved too difficult an assignment for the common tennis manager to undertake. No less than a dozen managers had either voluntarily resigned or was fired by the tennis prodigy until he took over. The meek were taken advantage of by Ryoma, the normal were infuriated by his behavior while the bad, actually the money-grubbing ones, were instantly given the boot, most of the time by Ryoma's close friends and relatives. Things got so bad that his mother had to step in as a substitute to face an indignant protest from her son. That was when Clayton took over and the only thing that made him successful in managing Ryoma was his vested interest in him.

In contrast to the most commonly interpreted meaning of "vested interest" with implications of personal financial gain, Clayton's 'interest' in Ryoma was no more than that of a big brother. He had no interest in sucking off Ryoma's personal wealth, although being the manager of a tennis superstar did come with good monetary rewards. Armed with an MBA from a prestigious university, he was earning a substantial income from a good job before he switched to being his manager. In fact, he only took on the job after countless persuasions by the Echizens and his wife and Ryoma's cousin, Meino Nanako.

Clayton Kuribayashi is a second-generation Japanese-American and had lived in Los Angeles since he was born. His family and the Echizens were neighbours in the past and he had played the role of the neighbourhood big brother to the young Ryoma at that time. Being an ardent tennis fan, he looked up to the "Samurai", Echizen Nanjiroh and was excited to be neighbours with him. He also treated Ryoma as a precious little brother as he had no siblings of his own and was greatly disappointed when they decided to move back to Japan. Therefore, he was pleasantly surprised when they returned with Ryoma who was planning to turn pro in the US. Their return also led to him meeting and marrying his current wife, Nanako.

The appointment of Clayton as Ryoma's manager raised a couple of eyebrows and the media soon began to speculate if the Echizens wanted to "keep the money within the family". Some tabloids went on the more aggressive route, criticizing Clayton as a shrewd manipulator and a cunning predator who sneaked his way into the Echizen family and preyed on their wealth. These tabloids soon received a lawyer's letter courtesy of Echizen Rinko which quickly culminated in an apology and quelled all sorts of defamatory reports against him. Protests erupted among Ryoma's fans but the negative opinions were subsequently muted as Ryoma made his way up to the pinnacle of the tennis world under his management. When asked about his success in managing the talented but difficult player, he attributed it to him not seeing Ryoma as a business opportunity but as a brother. And he meant every word of it. Before he took up the post, Clayton had people under him doing his bidding. But as Ryoma's manager, he was under a "darn brat" which he had no qualms about saying it straight into his face. He was most reluctant to take up the post as it would have meant a complete reversal of his lifestyle. However, after repeated persuasions from Nanako and Rinko, he finally gave in, part of him unwilling to see the dreams of a talented individual and most importantly, his dear little brother dashed because of matters unrelated to his goal. Ryoma also acknowledged his brotherly love and learnt to tone down his attitude and do most of the things that Clayton asked him to. Despite his personality flaws, he knew when a person was true to him and when they were not and Clayton fit comfortably in the former category.

Although not as attractive as Ryoma, Clayton possesses looks that would be considered good-looking in a normal person's standards. Lean muscles supported his lanky frame and Ryoma could swear that those deceptively slender arms are able to muster deadly shots into his opponents' court in amateur tennis. The fringe of his short, chestnut hair that was always neatly cropped sat obediently above his brow. A pair of rimless glasses rested comfortably on his high nose, barely shielding his deep, dark brown eyes whose gaze is enough to send high schoolgirls into fits of giggles and turn women into blushing tomatoes. His eyes were the very thing that Nanako was attracted to in the first place and she described them as having a "mysterious, velvety look", to which Ryoma only threw her a look of incomprehension. Being in his early thirties, Clayton sported a mature but boyish look and this was not lost on the female population. The image of two pretty boys together sent a chill of excitement through the fangirls and soon, Clayton and Ryoma found themselves having a fandom dedicated to their relationship, much to Ryoma's disgust and Clayton's amusement. However, that did not make his job of shunning away over-zealous fangirls any easier since the Echizen Ryoma fanbase easily transverses the million mark. And now, more than 30,000 feet up in the air, two of the aforementioned fangirls lay right in front of his eyes.

Clayton gave a heavy sigh. Just when he had given the airline strict instructions on such behaviour, he finds the cabin staff breaking every single rule he had set. The airline had practically begged them to take their flight with the promise of an uninterrupted ride in first class for free. The uninterrupted ride was the deciding factor for Clayton. With prize money from tournaments and money from endorsements, a seat in first class was nothing more than the price of a pea for him. What really mattered was privacy and despite the warnings and promises, the airline seemed to have failed in educating their staff on the protocol of having a VVIP on board. Clayton made a mental note to file an official complaint with the airline.

"I have some matters to handle." Clayton said in a low voice to Ryoma who momentarily shifted his attention from his 3DS to his manager and cousin-in-law. "I'll be back soon." He finished and left his seat.

Ryoma glanced at the older man's back and from his direction and the two air stewardesses who had hurriedly drew the curtain, deduced that he was going to deal with his fangirls again.

"Fangirls…" Ryoma mentally noted with disgust. His experience with them went back to his middle school days and he had only one word to describe them. Annoying. However, as his status in the tennis world rose, so did their numbers and the intensity of their stalker tendencies, leading him to use another word to describe them. Creepy. That underwear set he received in the mail? It took him two weeks to rid himself of that grotesque scene. The fangirls (and fanboys) who look as if they were there to rape him instead of supporting him? He would have launched his entire ammunition of tennis balls on them if not stopped by his manager who said he could be charged with genocide. And that woman who had stripped naked in front of his hotel room in Madrid? No amount of eye drops could get rid of the monstrous image and he had to cleanse his eyes by looking at Sa….

Ryoma stopped his train of thoughts. Just a bit more and he would be in forbidden territory. His grip on his gaming console tightened as he closed his eyes. A loud "Game Over!" from his 3DS snapped him back to reality. As if mocking him, a big, blinking "Game Over" flashed across the screen, his character dead in the background. Ryoma muttered a curse under his breath and threw the console aside angrily. He grabbed his signature cap and pulled it low so that it covered his face. He adjusted the seat back and lay down just as Clayton returned.

"Did something happen?" He asked in a curious tone.

"Mada mada dane!" Ryoma grunted irritably from below his cap and stubbornly turned away from him.

Clayton gave an inaudible sigh as he slipped into his seat beside Ryoma. It was going to be a long ride back to Japan.

* * *

The wind ruffled against the trees and with each gust, eased some leaves off their branches to a bed of red and yellow below. A woman with hazel-brown eyes and silky long hair peeked outside the window of her kitchen and gave a smile, savouring the gratuitous musical of autumn.

"Ding!" An oven alarm went off amidst the tranquillity.

"Is it done? Is it done?" An energetic voice echoed from the living room as the swift pattering of footsteps neared the kitchen.

The woman with long chocolate tresses gave a warm laugh as she saw her friend dart into the kitchen like an excited puppy.

"Tomo-chan! Are you that hungry?" She teased.

"Who can resist that smell!" Tomoka exclaimed as she took a deep whiff the sweet aroma that enveloped the kitchen.

"Sakuno you are a GENIUS at baking!" She continued her shameless compliments as she glomped her friend of over 15 years gleefully from behind.

"Mou, Tomo-chan!" Sakuno gave a smile of embarrassment to the joyful brunette while gently prying her hands off.

Having escaped the energetic Tomoka's embrace, Sakuno made her way to the oven that was continuously emitting a tantalizing fragrance. Putting on kitchen gloves, she lowered the oven lid and the delicious aroma rushed out impatiently.

"Aaahhh…." Tomoka led out a sigh of utter content as the enticing smell conducted a short, melodious tune within her senses, building up her anticipation of the main concerto.

Sakuno placed the oven pan, adorned by tidy rows of oval-shaped confectioneries, on the kitchen table as a satisfied smile crossed her features.

"The macarons turned out great!" She could not hide the tinge of fulfilment in her voice as she studied her creations that were looking back at her with all their delectability.

"Shape, aroma, texture, colour, it's all perfect! Sakuno, your skills are getting better and better!" Tomoka praised Sakuno who was turning slightly pink from her compliments.

"Mo…Mou Tomo-chan!" Sakuno stammered slightly. "There is still room for improvement!"

Despite having matured into beautiful woman, Sakuno still kept hints of her schoolgirl bashfulness and her stutter, although the incidences of the latter showed a sharp decline after graduating from high school. As Tomoka put it, a Sakuno overflowing with self-confidence is not Sakuno; a Sakuno with a blush and an occasional stammer is their Sakuno. No matter how much she has changed, her kind and unassuming quality was what made Sakuno distinctly her and all of her friends and family hoped she would always stay that way.

"So this is for the Okinawa dessert special?" Tomoka said as she examined the macarons that were coloured in purple, beige and dark brown.

Sakuno nodded her head in response. "The chief editor requested for an additional segment on desserts made with the specialties of the different regions in Japan. Then I remembered the black sugar that Obaa-chan had brought back from her recent trip to Okinawa and tried to make macarons from it." She answered.

"It was delicious and so I thought I should feature Okinawan products in the debut feature!" Sakuno added with a smile.

"So the purple ones are made of purple yam, the beige ones are Okinawa sea salt caramel and the dark brown ones are Okinawa black sugar?" Tomoka queried, sniffing each one for verification.

"Yes." Sakuno confirmed while suppressing a slight laugh over her best friend's antics. She was already a woman with 28 years of age under her name and yet managed to effortlessly slip back to her teens every time. Having a highly-contagious positive attitude and seemingly endless vitality is Tomoka's trademark and Sakuno was thankful she has someone like her around.

"I can't wait to try them!" Tomoka exclaimed, her eyes shining with anticipation.

Sakuno laughed out loud. "Wipe that drool off your face Tomo-chan. After the macarons have cooled down and I have taken some pictures we can have afternoon tea together!"

Tomoka, being the excitable bunny she was, jumped up in sheer joy. "Got it ma'am!" She gave Sakuno a mock-salute with a cheeky grin on her face. "I'll go make the tea! You can go get your camera and finish up your work. I'm starving!" Tomoka said as she bounded over to the tea cupboard.

Sakuno placed the macarons on a plate and left the kitchen to go up to her room to retrieve her camera. As she passed the living room she realised that Tomoka had left the television on. She picked up the remote that had been casually placed on the sofa and was about to press the off button when the TV screen caught her eye.

Splashed across the screen in bright red were the words "The Tennis King Returns!". A dark-haired man, his eyes partially hidden by a white cap was the main focus of the report. Reporters, cameramen, and civilians were all crowding around him like he was the only spring in the desert and the screams and shouts in the background only served to intensify the magnitude of hysteria. Policemen and bodyguards attempting to clear the way and fighting off wayward hands from reaching the visibly annoyed main character only served to reinforce the interpretation of the current situation as pure chaos.

"Echizen Ryoma, the current world number 1, is back in Japan to a rabid welcome from his fans." The host of the entertainment news reported. "He…"

The sound of the television became inaudible to Sakuno. She was staring straight at the screen, fixated on the tennis superstar who was currently sporting an irritated look. Her bright hazel eyes suddenly became dull as a close-up of Ryoma plastered across the monitor. As if afraid of having eye contact, she looked away as the camera took a front shot of his frustrated but still handsome face. Her finger closed in on the red button on the remote and with slight pressure, pressed down on it. The image of Echizen Ryoma swiftly disappeared as a blank screen rapidly took his place. Sakuno slowly looked up, and as if to confirm that his image was gone, let her eyes linger on the empty display. Taking a deep breath, she quietly put the remote down on the table and walked steadily in the direction of the stairs.

* * *

Author's notes: Please read and review!


	2. Homecoming

Author's notes: Sorry for the late update! Actually...hehe... I had finished writing this sometime ago... I was just too lazy to post this up.

This story will be a slow-paced story (and written at my own pace) so do not expect something like Ryoma and Sakuno getting together in 1 chapter and getting married in the next. I will put in a lot of descriptions as well as write out things that just come to me. I believe this is sort of a...maturing of my writing style? Well, something like that. :P

I am still looking for a beta reader so if anyone is interested please contact me!

Without further ado, enjoy the story!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis or any of its characters.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Homecoming**

If annoyance could be measured on a temperature scale, Clayton could have sworn he had just stepped into a fully-functioning oven calibrated to its highest setting and thrown into an open fire for extra measure.

"Now now Ryoma. If Rinko obaa-san was to hear that…" Clayton paused purposefully while sliding into a comfortable leather seat beside the annoyed tennis king. "_colourful_ language that just came out of your mouth, even I would not be able to save you." He berated his charge in a nonchalant tone.

"Hmph!" Ryoma gave a snort in answer. His golden eyes were brimming with frustration and displeasure and the fashion in which he slumped over in his seat spoke a thousand words for his current temperament.

"When did the population of Japan turn into a bunch screaming stalkers?" Ryoma said irritably.

"When you arrived." Clayton coolly remarked. He did not miss the imaginary daggers the dark-haired young man were aiming at him with his glare, nor did he fail to notice the icy fury the said glares were glazed in. However, he did not allow that scowl on Ryoma's face deter him from making more sarcastic comments. After all, the King of Tennis had just managed to set off an entire field of PR disaster mines within half an hour of setting foot in Japan. He could foresee the words "arrogant", "attitude problems", "diva-esque" splattered over all major media outlets by tomorrow. Ryoma is a genius when it came to tennis; similarly, his brilliant lack of PR skills would have put him in serious contention for the rank of king in that category.

"You are going to have to clear up the mess you made Ryoma." Clayton stated, blatantly ignoring the stares Ryoma was continuously shooting at him. "I told you to at least look emotionless and not look like the world owed you a billion US dollars." He continued his verbal onslaught.

Ryoma tore his gaze away from the bespectacled man and directed his killing glare to the scenery outside of the window of the luxurious black sedan he was currently riding in. He was in an unnaturally foul mood ever since he arrived in the Land of the Rising Sun. No, scratch it. He had been in an abominable mood ever since he had mentally wandered into a prohibited zone. How he wish he could fire off an entire basket of tennis balls of his Tsunami Serve to vent out the nagging irritation within him. Clayton's digs were not doing much at easing his annoyance but he could not snap at him. He knew his manager only used that tone when he was acting immature or being difficult. Their relationship was close enough for them to make playful taunts at each other with no hard feelings left behind, but Clayton was especially sarcastic in situations like this. Handling someone like him came with immense pressure and very much unlike Ryoma's mother, his admonishment approach was to pass comments that seem to skirt the surface but directed straight where it mattered most. Clayton usually played the role of a big brother; however he was particularly unforgiving with his remarks when Ryoma, intentionally or unintentionally, provoked an entire army of displeased media people and fans and assigned him as a solitary fighter to untangle the mess that he had single-handedly conjured up.

"There will be a press conference scheduled for tomorrow morning." Clayton continued. "You will have to have a proper excuse for your absolutely _charming_ gaze at the airport just now." He said as Ryoma flinched slightly at his tone of voice.

"To take the heat off matters, I would think it would be best to talk about your recent US Open victory; though I expect most reporters would be asking about it anyway. I will prepare a draft by tonight. Make sure you read it carefully." Clayton finished and threw Ryoma a warning glance as if daring him to dispute.

"Got it." Ryoma grunted an unwillingly response, his cat-like, golden eyes not shifting from the foreign yet familiar scenery. He had been away for two years. So much seemed to have changed but at the same time, nothing seemed to have changed at all. Was it him who had changed? He couldn't answer, for he didn't have an answer. Japan held too many memories for him, be it good or bad. He hastily shut his eyes as he willed his mental mechanisms to an abrupt halt. He was once again embarking onto dangerous territory. Ryoma rested his head on the headrest with his eyes clamped shut, as if trying to find support for his fatigued mind.

"_Two years."_ Ryoma silently echoed in his mind. _"Maybe two years…is not enough…"_

* * *

The architecture on the sides of the road was vastly different as Ryoma groggily awoke from his slumber. His sleep was not as smooth as he would have liked it to be; hardly surprising considering the fact that he found his head in a very weird position upon awaking, his aching neck a firm supporter of the theory. He dragged his lethargic body to an upright sitting position and did slight stretches to relieve the stiffness. The sleek, ebony vehicle, which quiet ride attested to its expensive heritage, smoothly decelerated as it made a turn into a luxurious compound. It stopped right in in front of a row of spotless glass doors, its gold rims shining in the sun.

A smartly-dressed middle aged man was waiting expectantly at the door and flashed a respectful smile as the car came to a stop. He approached the vehicle and bowed down to open the door of the passenger seat.

Ryoma stepped out of the expensive car as the middle aged man, who was the Resident Manager smiled politely at him.

"Welcome back Mr. Echizen." He bowed courteously and gestured towards the bellboy who was taking his luggage out of the trunk. "I will have the bellboy send your luggage up a bit later."

Ryoma silently nodded at the manager sluggishly entered the grand building. The concierge had all taken to their feet and were all bowing politely. Another well-dressed man approached the tennis star and introduced himself as the General Manager. Ryoma promptly ignored him and turned to walk away but was momentarily distracted by discreet prodding at his back waist area and the gaze of his manager whose eyes have narrowed into slits.

"_You are absolutely NOT going to have another PR disaster right at your doorstep." _ Ryoma read from Clayton's features.

Although he was so looking forward to relaxing in a nice, hot bath then sprawling out comfortably on his soft king-size bed, buried under fluffy covers, Ryoma relented and gave the manager a forced smile. Beaming, the manager gave him a warm welcome and informed him that the management has prepared some gifts of appreciation to celebrate his return. Nothing the manager registered into his brain; all Ryoma wanted was to get to his house and do the aforementioned activities. Clayton took in Ryoma's bored look and thanked the manager as he quickly whisked his charge away. Although wary of Clayton's mood, when Ryoma's boredom or annoyance reached its peak, he couldn't care less of what his manager and cousin-in-law would say or do, something Clayton knew very well. There were times when he could not stop the situation from spiralling out of control despite repeated warnings to his little brother. Ryoma was much more manageable as compared to his late teens but his unpredictable ways resumed after that big event in his life.

The lift doors opened, breaking Clayton's train of thought. As expected of one of the most luxurious apartments in Japan, even the lift was a reflection of grandeur. There were no buttons that indicated the level in the elevator; the open and close buttons and the alarm buttons were the only ones adorning the lift walls. In place of the level buttons, a slit and a LED screen filled the space on each side of the lift wall next to the doors. Clayton inserted the apartment key card into one of the slits and pulled it out a while later. The LED screen flashed a message: "Welcome back Mr. Echizen. Please choose your destination." The screen changed to show the different options available. Clayton touched the option "Your apartment" as the doors closed to the bows of the staff.

The lift ride was a silent one. Ryoma rested against the side of the lift, his golden eyes shrouded in fatigue and annoyance. Taking a 12-hour long flight, suffering from jet lag, mobbed by reporters and fangirls, reprimanded by Clayton, then mobbed again (in his opinion) by the staff of his apartment; the day was certainly unsympathetically eventful for him. He laid his head back and gave out a long sigh. He could already picture his steaming hot bath in front of him.

The lift emitted a sound as the door opened to a hallway surrounded by glass on the left, providing a picturesque view of the city. The iconic Tokyo Tower and Tokyo Bay as well as the newly erected Tokyo Sky Tree were only some of the few structures that could be observed from Ryoma's apartment. However, the tennis king showed absolute disinterest in the breathtaking landscape, opting instead to plunge straight onto his leather sofa.

Clayton watched Ryoma sprawled out on the sofa like a lazy cat which reminded him that Ponta would be arriving in another few days. He made a mental note to remind the concierge of the arrival of Ryoma's pet cat. He took a glance of his surroundings and noted that despite being uninhabited for approximately 2 years, Ryoma's apartment was kept spotless. The apartment was reminiscent of its opulent roots; hi-tech gadgets could be found in every corner: the lights could automatically react to the changes in visibility as well as movements; the refrigerator is voice-controlled and is able to dispense ice and ice water upon command. The stove uses a touch screen that not only allows control of temperature, but is also able to send out alarms when it senses that the food may be over-cooked or if there is danger. It is also able to connect to the internet and programmed to show recipes and suggestions. As he studied the lavish apartment, he caught sight of an interesting object at the far end behind the kitchen.

"That reminds me Ryoma." Clayton started, moving towards him while fishing for something in his bag. The ringing sounds of metallic substances clashing together resonated within the house as he lifted his hand from the bag.

"Your car keys." Clayton stated as he revealed the object in his hand to Ryoma who had opened an eye to present his minor interest. He lifted his hand to receive the item while Clayton picked up a remote and pressed a button. The sound of sliding doors immediately caught the attention of the golden-eyed man.

Ryoma heaved his fatigued body up from his lying position on the sofa and looked in the direction of the sound. As the doors slid open, he was momentarily bedazzled by an object glistening in the afternoon sun. The doors retreated completely, drawing the curtains of the hidden treasure.

A sleek silver Lamborghini, crouching like a powerful predator ready to pounce, proudly demonstrated its imposing demeanor with an untainted shimmer. The pure, unadulterated lavishness of posh sports car in the private car porch only managed to emphasize the extravagance of the apartment and the affluence of its master.

Ryoma had been living a privileged life since he was born. He never knew what it was like to struggle for a living, nor did he have worries about finances. His father, Echizen Nanjirou had won a considerable amount of prize money during his stint in professional tennis and his mother, Echizen Rinko, is a high-flying lawyer specializing in international law. Therefore, Ryoma was able to have the best, be it studies or tennis, from a young age. His illustrious family background, coupled with his success in the professional tennis world culminated in him having a lower-than-average perception of the value of money. In contrast to the image of the rich splurging on ostentatious items, Ryoma has no taste for luxury goods. Half the time he doesn't really know what brand of casual clothing he is donning and when prompted, the first answer out of him would be the sports brand that he is currently endorsing, although he is decked in a dress shirt and jeans. He also had to be tutored (by Clayton) that the watch he is has to endorse is of a luxury brand, and not "just a watch". With his indifference, how did Ryoma come to buy such an expensive apartment and car? The answer plagued many; however those close to him could come up with the answer readily. Ryoma was not fond of attention but with his crowning as the Prince of Tennis and subsequently the King of Tennis, the fascination with his personal life found their way to the media and his fans alike. His privacy was almost reduced to none as the media and rapacious fans stationed themselves outside his house like predators waiting for their prey. Dozens of cameras were aimed at his private lodge, intent on capturing "juicy moments" and "secret life" of the tennis superstar. Therefore, it was not unexpected of him to get a place where he could be devoid of all the unwanted interest. The hefty price tag of his current abode is all but a trivial price to pay for his privacy. The purchase of his silver Lamborghini bordered on the same explanation. Ryoma was not intent on getting a sports car; in fact any car would do. However, the words of the salesman struck a chord in him and the very next moment, he was asking for the earliest delivery of his newly-acquired vehicle. Up till today, Clayton could only marvel and applaud at the ingenuity of the sales tactic of that car salesman. The magic words were "escape from fangirls" while stressing the rapid acceleration and speed of the vehicle and that was enough to effectively bait Ryoma into getting the Lamborghini.

"Although the maintenance of your Lamborghini is sponsored," Clayton continued. "Please be careful when you drive it out."

Ryoma answered Clayton with silence and awarded his car a brief span of attention before returning to his previous pose on the sofa. After all, he was sure that he would be chauffeured around if he requested for it. Driving around alone would be a nice idea but his two-year absence from the Japanese capital would prove to be very challenging on the roads. Driving a conspicuous, attention-grabbing vehicle while getting lost in Tokyo did not rank high in his agenda; in fact, it was the very thing he would have _loved_ to avoid. Once in a while, he would berate himself for the hasty decision of getting the Lamborghini as it was an extremely easy target to follow. However, Ryoma quickly put it aside when his car showed its worth as a bona fide sports car by losing the pesky reporters cum stalkers through sheer speed and control.

"Which would probably be tonight as there is a homecoming party held in your honour at your parents' place."

Ryoma bolted up from the sofa with such tenacity that it _might_ have startled Clayton. His golden eyes narrowed as he shot a glare in the direction of his manager.

"Who decided that?" Ryoma _almost_ sneered. He was not fond or social gatherings and parties alike and it should have been a knowledge deeply engraved into everyone close to him.

"Aunt Rinko." Clayton replied simply.

Upon mention of his mother, Ryoma let out a deep sigh. If there was a person in the world that he could not defy, it would have to be her. She was awfully sweet and a fantastic mother to him; however she was extremely strict and had a temper rivaling that of Coach Ryuuzaki when the situation called for it. He was just glad the one was mostly on the receiving end of her displeasure was his perverted oyaji though there were times when he bore the brunt of it, no thanks to his willful behaviour. If his mother wanted him to attend the party, he _had_ to attend the party.

"You're coming too right?" Ryoma asked.

"Of course." Clayton answered. "Nanako will be there too." His dark brown eyes, its earthy shade highly indicative of his calm and reliable nature, softened considerably upon mention of his wife. Being the manager of a tennis champion provides him with a schedule as hectic as his charge. Therefore, he could meet his beloved barely a few times a month.

Ryoma did not miss the look of longing on his cousin-in-law's eyes. He never looked in the mirror, but he was sure he too, once had that expression on his face.

"_Alright Echizen Ryoma, stop."_ Ryoma inwardly scolded himself. He was trudging into forbidden territory yet again in a span of less than 24 hours. His annoyance level had soared exponentially since he was put on a flight back to Japan and the upward trend is not seeing signs of a decline anytime soon. Part of it was caused by pesky reporters and fans; the other part, in fact most of it, was caused by the great Echizen Ryoma aka his very own self. He could almost swear that the air in Japan had the mystical ability to read into and bring out a person's deepest and hidden thoughts.

"_All the manga and anime must have rubbed off in the real world…"_ Ryoma silently muttered in self-mockery.

"You have approximately 4 hours to rest before the party at 8." Clayton snapped Ryoma out of his thoughts, something he was pretty thankful for. "Go take a bath and some rest. I doubt you will be getting much tonight."

Ryoma let out a faint groan as he slid down onto the sofa again and instinctively laid the back of his left palm over his forehead while closing his eyes. The idea of his senpais pestering him the entire night did not appeal to him. He could only imagine the horror and torture that he will be subjected to tonight. Ryoma lifted his eyelids slightly and glanced towards the bathroom. Maybe he should just drown in the bathtub. At least he will die in the midst of something he enjoys.

* * *

The skies were gradually turning dark and the sun was about to complete its daily routine of bringing light to the world and slipping into slumber when a classy sports car ran through the streets of Tokyo. It came to a silent stop just as the final shreds of daylight retired and the darkness of night took over.

The wide road that was usually empty was packed with stationary cars of all makes. As Ryoma drove down the road, he counted at least 7 cars. Each time he passed a car, the painful throbbing in his temples grew. The ex-Seigaku regulars were at his old home in full force and he was sure they were not the only ones. Aside from their wives, he was sure that it was going to be a Seigaku Tennis Club reunion, not a Seigaku ex-regulars reunion which meant _a whole lot_ of people.

At this point, the tennis superstar contemplated making good worth of his powerful engine with excellent horsepower by fleeing. All he had to do was to step down on the accelerator and in a blink of an eye, he would be dashing into the night sky, heading to anywhere but his old home. Ah yes, that would be nice…only if Clayton was not looking at him through his half-lidded eyes. He knew what Ryoma was thinking of trying to do and no way was he going to allow it. Slyly, he reached for the phone in his pocket, pressed a button and held it to his ear.

"Aunt Rinko? We have reached. Could you open the gate to let us park the car in the porch?"

Ryoma almost screamed a curse out loud, stopping himself in time when he remembered that his mother was currently on the line with his cousin-in-law who now had a smirk plastered over his face. Great, now he absolutely _had_ to join the party. There was no escaping once his mother is involved. He threw a menacing glare at the handsome man in the passenger seat next to him who smartly deflected it with a cool smile.

The gates of the Echizen house began pulling aside, interrupting the glaring war Ryoma had pledged against Clayton. Ever since Ryoma was dubbed as the rising star in professional tennis, his home was barraged by prying reporters and stalker fans who would stop at nothing to get a glimpse of the Prince of tennis in private. Therefore, the gates were changed to automatic ones that would only open from the inside or with a key and were totally covered to conceal the interior of the main residence. They even had to install CCTV cameras and hire bodyguards to keep out potential mobs and extreme fans who seem to stop at nothing to get near to their prince.

As the gates slid open, a look of hopelessness arose on Ryoma's chiseled features. In just a matter of moments, his senpai-tachi, despite their age, would be running out like excited little children, giving him death hugs and probably molesting him while they are at that. The gates gradually pulled back his covers and Ryoma silently braced himself for the violent assault that was about to take place…

Out stepped a woman, tall and slim, elegant in demeanour, waving at them. Ryoma quickly recognized her as Echizen Rinko, a successful lawyer, wife to former professional tennis player and legend Echizen Nanjirou, and also his mother. She smilingly gestured towards Ryoma to drive the car into their porch. Letting out an inaudible sigh, he stepped on the accelerator and did as he was told.

The stylish silver Lamborghini pulled up into the porch as expectant guests starting flooding the place.

"Ochibi!" A loud, cheerful voice rang out amongst the crowd.

"Echizen!" An energetic voice called out.

As soon as he stepped out of his classy vehicle, Ryoma was quickly overwhelmed by his senpai who were hugging him, ruffling his hair and basically treating him as their beloved kouhai like they did during their middle school years despite the fact that most of them had left their twenties behind and were married, some with children. Ryoma allowed a disgruntled look to cross his features as his senpai took their own sweet time welcoming him home in their own special way.

"_They just never grow up."_ Ryoma thought.

"Seishounen!" A strong voice let out. That mocking tone, Ryoma could never forget who it belonged to.

The ex-Seigaku regulars ceased their glomping session and made way for Ryoma's parents. Echizen Nanjirou, dressed in his faux monk garb, greeted his son, an annoying smirk spread over his face. Beside him stood Echizen Rinko, clad in a simple dress that was not able to keep her natural grace and elegance under wraps.

"Okaeri nasai Ryoma." Rinko flashed her son a warm smile.

Ryoma glanced at his mother, then at his smirking father, and then at all of the people who have gathered to welcome him home. Bowing slightly, he said:

"Tadaima."

* * *

Author's notes: Just a few notes.

1. I will not be following the calculation method for ATP Rankings as it means Ryoma will not be able to keep his number 1 spot if he takes a break. Anyway, the ATP ranking calculation method is plain scary! No wonder top professional tennis players make so much money! Turning pro is really no small feat!

2. For the private car porch in his house, there is actually such a thing! It will be built in Singapore and that is where I got the idea from! I utilised a lot of imagination for Ryoma's luxurious house but most are based on real stuff or are possible to make through modern technology.

3. I would have preferred a Mercedes Benz sports car but I chose to let Ryoma have a Lamborghini in his favourite colour instead. The silver Lamborghini pictures that I googled did not really appeal to me, although I eventually saw one that sort of resembles what I had in mind. I gave him a Lamborghini to emphasize how freaking rich he is. Haha!

Please read and review!


End file.
